Life of a Kludge: Volume 2
by Luna Sealeaf
Summary: Volume 2 continues the story of Seamus Zelazny Harper's life.
1. Default Chapter

Ah, at last, Volume 2! A new set of adventures for our beloved Seamus Harper...heh. At least, I hope they're interesting enough to be called 'adventures'. I cannot thank those who have reviewed-both on fanfiction.net and on Ex Isle-enough. This humble fifteen year old is eternally grateful! ::Bows lowly before all reviewers:: You are all really too kind. Ok, enough jabber, you know the drill:  
  
Disclaimer: I own none of these characters (sob) except for a few that I made up. All of the Andromeda characters are owned by someone far luckier then me. (Sigh) I'm just being creative with them...  
  
Pronunciation: The Irish names, meanings, spellings, and pronunciations are all correct, as far as I know.  
Bronagh (Bro-nah)  
Kaleigh (Kay-lee)  
Eoin (Owe-in)  
Declan (Deck-lawn)  
Siobhan (Shiv-an)  
  
Volume 2: Chapter 1  
Passing Faces  
Ages 16-17  
  
It was cold. Shivering, Seamus pulled the tattered blanket around him tighter, trying to drain as much warmth from it as possible. His head ached, and he wondered if he was getting sick. This alarmed him enough that he sat up, feeling his forehead for clamminess or a fever. Relief spread through him as he remembered that he had been drinking the night before, which would explain the headache. Of course, he'd been drinking every night for the past four months since Kylie's death. It was the only thing he could get; clean water had become as rare as decent food since the Magog attacks had increased on the refugee camps. Nietzscheans needed the water for their wounded, but they seemed to enjoy letting the kludges get their hands on alcohol. Some people made their own as well, but if the taste didn't kill you, then it was quite possible that the ingredients would.  
  
"Seamus! Get your ass up, we've got work to do!" A tall, pudgy man kicked one of Seamus' legs.  
  
"Yeah yeah...that's 'Mr. Freakin Genius' to you," Seamus muttered under his breath. His boss, Cal, didn't hear him, which was lucky. Although he had no qualms about stating his opinions, Cal didn't always appreciate hearing them and Seamus didn't feel like going another month without rations.  
  
He pulled himself up off the ground, groaning. Another day in the beautiful life of a genius mechanic. By some strange miracle of fate, Seamus had survived the fever that had killed Kylie; the irony was not lost on him. When he'd recovered enough to talk coherently, he'd gone in search of Brendan. There had been no sign of him at all, and Seamus had been starting to worry that something had happened to him. Among his investigations however, Seamus had met Cal. Cal was a kludge who was privileged enough to run one of the Nietzschean repair shops. He was smart, but the only thing he cared about was money. The parts he sold were often of better quality than the ones Nietzscheans liked to sell to species they felt were underneath them, such as other 'kludges' and so his business had thrived. When he had met Seamus however, and had had him demonstrate his abilities, he'd hired him on the spot. There was little pay involved; despite being pretty much the only repairman, Seamus only received food, some type of drink, usually beer, and a place to sleep, (the floor of the shop). Having nowhere else to go, Seamus accepted the job.  
  
He regretted it often though. Despite his joy at being able to use tools he'd never dreamed of touching when he was younger, Seamus hated not being allowed to simply make things. All he was allowed to do was repair. Oh yes, and deliver, because Cal was a member of a local 'protection agency' as they liked to call themselves. Cal always sent Seamus to their rendezvous points so that if they were ever caught, Cal could blame Seamus. Usually his best work went to them, to Seamus' annoyance. He preferred giving them to ship owners who were desperately afraid that they would never be able to get off the hell hole of a planet for lack of decent and payable parts. He enjoyed proving them wrong and seeing the looks on their faces when he'd installed the parts and the ships worked better than they had in years; it was the only thing that kept him from quitting.  
  
"Hurry up Seamus! We've got a lotta orders today!" Cal called again gruffly. Yawning, Seamus followed him down the rickety stairs. Ignoring Cal's other attempts to talk to him; he walked out the back door to the renovation lot, as he nicknamed it.  
  
For the next four hours of the day Seamus was busy putting together a list of parts. They were so simple that his mind drifted as he worked. He liked to think of the small house in the country, Dunwich, where he and his family had used to live, when his work became too dull...  
  
"Trips by the heel! Trips by the heel!" Brendan taunted the five year old Seamus, who was crying.  
  
"Mom! Make him stop!" Seamus whined to his mother. Bronagh, sitting on the ground and bent over a torn pair of pants, only laughed kindly.  
"I'm sorry Seamus, I wouldn't have told him what your name meant if I knew it would upset you so much," The two boys made faces at each other until Bronagh shooed Brendan away, telling him his mother needed his help with the chores. When he had gone, Seamus walked over and sat by his mother, watching her work.  
  
His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of footsteps on the junk- covered ground. Looking up, he saw a man walking towards him. Figuring it was a customer, although it was a little earlier than most showed up, Seamus stood and walked towards the man. He almost held out his hand in greeting, than thought better of it as he eyed the person in front of him. The man was wearing a large, ragged blanket designed as a poncho, with torn trousers and moccasin like shoes. He was extremely thin, with a wasted look, and his hair was so gray it was nearly silver. To Seamus' eye, he didn't look like someone he wanted to be exchanging germs with.  
  
"Welcome to Cal's repair shop. You want something fixed, you'd better talk to the boss 'imself, Cal's up at headquarters," He grinned as he said these last words and stuck a thumb towards the small building behind him. The man didn't answer, only stared at him.  
  
"Are you Seamus Harper?" Taken aback, Seamus didn't skip a beat. The more customers Cal got, the more he got to eat.  
  
"The one and only. I see you've heard of me; unsurprising. Well, whatever you got I can fix it-or rebuild it altogether, whichever you need," He boasted, although something in the man's eye made him falter. Why was he staring at him like that?  
  
"My god Seamus, is it really you? I thought for sure you were dead," The man took a step towards him, but Seamus moved back, holding up his hands to ward him away.  
  
"And just who are you?" He asked, pointedly looking him up and down. The man smiled and stopped walking towards him.  
  
"It's me Seamus; your Uncle Eoin, your mother's older brother," Seamus dropped the tool he'd been holding and stared at the man. How could this shrunken, ill looking man be the tall strong uncle he remembered? Then he looked at his eyes, and knew the man was speaking the truth.  
  
"Uncle-Uncle Eoin?" As the man nodded, Seamus felt tears come into his eyes, and the two embraced tightly. Checking over his shoulder cautiously, Seamus made sure Cal wasn't nearby, and then sat down, pulling Eoin with him. Slowly, Eoin told him all that had happened since Seamus' parents had taken him to the refugee camp.  
  
"After Siobhan and Declan died, Cassie wasn't the same. We tried to survive out in the country on our own, but there was hardly anyone else around. Most people had already left for the camps. She refused to leave her children though. Finally the magog came again," Eoin said this part bitterly, and Seamus stared at the ground, fiddling with the part he was supposed to be fixing. "They killed her; I guess I should be grateful they didn't infest her too. So I buried her next to our children, and left for the refugee camps, figuring I could at least be with the rest of my family. Only I couldn't find any of you. A few months ago I was near the dock and I heard some spacers talking about how surprised they were to have gotten their ship in perfect shape on a place like Earth. They said something about a kid with skills in engineering, called Seamus, or something," Eoin looked up and smiled at his nephew proudly, and Seamus grinned sheepishly. "So I decided to look for you...and here I am!"  
  
The two embraced again, Seamus felt tears in his eyes. At last, he finally wasn't alone anymore. He told Eoin about not knowing where Brendan was, and started to explain all that had happened since he'd arrived, when he was shoved roughly into the ground.  
  
"Hey you lazy piece a crap, I hired you to work, not sit around gabbing all day," Cal's drunken voice said. Eoin stood up in anger, but Seamus quickly got back on his feet and gave him a placating look.  
  
"Look, I finish work at night; we can talk then, ok?" He said, ignoring Cal's threats to keep him working all night too. Eoin nodded, hugged him, and cast a fierce glare at Cal, probably knowing that it would only do Seamus harm to kill his employer, rather than good.  
  
"Now then, get down to the dock; I got some clients who are stranded." Seamus turned and scowled at the pudgy man.  
  
"What the hell ya mean 'stranded' ain't nobody stupid enough to get stuck down here," Cal cuffed him on the head.  
  
"They broke their damn slipstream drive, idiot," Cal said, smirking. They entered the building and Cal threw Seamus his tool belt. Seamus' eyes were wide. Fixing an entire slipstream drive could earn him a lot of money. He was about to walk out when he felt Cal grab his arm and spin him around, staring down into the shorter man's eyes.  
  
"You listen to me boy, don't you dare mess this up fo' me! Don't you dare do anything stupid, ya got that?" Confused, Seamus pulled himself away and sneered.  
  
"Yeah yeah, I got it," Rolling his eyes, he turned and left, practically feeling the man's eyes bore into his back, he strolled off towards the docks, glad at the chance to see the ships. What Cal didn't know was that at the first opportunity, Seamus planned on sneaking onto one and never coming back. Cal thought Seamus had the implant that everyone else did that kept them from leaving without permission. So Seamus was in a fairly good mood, considering, as he approached the docks carrying a large box of various tools, including his belt, and scanning the ships, trying to guess which one he was supposed to work on. A Nietzschean approached him, turning Seamus' blood cold, but he didn't move. The Nietzschean inquired about Seamus' business at the docks and he explained he was on a job for Cal. Showing the Nietzschean his pass, he was scanned so that his 'chip' wouldn't activate so that he could go onto the ships for repairs. Then he was directed to the bay his client was docked at.  
  
His thoughts were still on his Uncle Eoin and Brendan when he heard a loud voice say,  
  
"Oh no. You have got to be kidding me! Where is that bastard Cal...please tell me you're just helping the real engineer carry his things?" Scowling, Seamus turned to see who had spoken. He started to shoot back a reply angrily, then bit his tongue-literally-when he saw the person. Before him stood a woman taller than him-but most people were-with with red hair to her shoulders and piercing blue eyes. Her arms were crossed, and her clothes, while in far better condition than his, did look worn. She had a long sleeved red shirt on and long black pants, with a coat over everything. No doubt she'd been warned against carrying germs onto any clothing she valued. She was eyeing him up and down, clearly not pleased with what she saw. "Well?" She prompted him in that same condescending tone. Seamus felt annoyed. Setting down the heavy box, he crossed his own arms and matched her glare for glare.  
  
"Look, lady, if you asked for Cal, then most likely you heard he was the best." She didn't exactly nod, but he could tell he was right. "Well, I'm the reason he's the best." He said this last part proudly and rightly so, but she just laughed.  
  
"Listen kid, I'm on a cargo run. I don't have time for this. My next meal depends on getting my ship fixed, and I need it fixed right, and quickly. Now go back to your boss and tell him to send me a real engineer or the deals off." She turned away from him, and Seamus almost walked off in disgust. Almost, but his next meal, not to mention the use of his limbs, depended on getting her ship fixed as well. So he ignored her, walking right up to her ship and eyeing it. Since she still hadn't turned to look back at, thinking he had already left, he went ahead and picked up his tools, then started up the walkway.  
  
"Get off my ship," He heard the sound of a gun turned on and he turned to slowly see the woman aiming straight at him.  
  
"Lady, give me a chance and I can turn this piece of junk into something that can make it through slipstream without falling apart. If you don't like what I'm doing, you can always send me to the Nietzscheans," The woman didn't look convinced, and seemed to consider just shooting him anyway, but at last she re-holstered her gun and sighed.  
  
"Well at least you speak coherently. Most of you mud foots can't even pronounce slipstream," Seamus almost grinned, saying  
  
"Yeah well, my mom-"then he cut himself off. He didn't owe her any explanations, that was for sure. She looked puzzled, but when he didn't continue, she jerked her head towards her ship.  
  
"Get to work then," As he entered, she added, "And her name is the Eureka Maru. You damage her and I'll hang your head on the wall for decoration." He gave her a look which said he wasn't sure she was joking, but she didn't feel like explaining it to him. As she followed him onto the ship, he set the box of tools down with a thunk, and made his version of a sweeping bow to the interior of the ship.  
  
"A pleasure ta meet ya, Eureka Maru, I'm the Almighty Genius Engineer, also known as Seamus Zelazny Harper." Suddenly remembering her manners, when Seamus turned to ask her where the engine room was, she said quickly.  
  
"I'm Captain Beka Valentine, by the way, Seamus," She said his name awkwardly, and he only nodded. Then she led the way to the slipstream drive, all the way telling him exactly what she would do to him if he cheated her or messed up the Maru's systems. Finally, as he had just lay down and started to work, he snapped,  
  
"Sorry to interrupt, Captain Valentine, but I can't keep working with you distracting me. I promise I won't mess with your precious ship, I already told ya that." Seeing she was still doubtful, and tired of having her hovering around him while he tried and worked, Seamus snapped. "If you don't believe me, send me back to Cal, all you have to do is tell him I was screwing up and he'll hand me over to the Ubers-after taking his anger out on me of course-and they'll have me on a slaver faster than you can say 'No fair'. So please, if you don't want to believe that I don't have the capabilities to fix your ship, at least believe that I have a lot more to lose if I don't at least try," That said, he returned to his work and ignored her. She appeared to hesitate, but at last she turned and stalked out of the room. Seamus sighed with relief; glad he was alone at last.  
  
As the day wore on into night, Beka became concerned. What was that mudfoot doing to her ship? Returning to the engine room, she found him gone from the slipstream drive and fiddling with the control panels to the life support systems. Angry at herself for being an idiot, she sprinted over to him and pushed him to the ground, her gun already out and pointed at him.  
  
"What the HELL are you doing?!" She said angrily, pushing the gun's tip to an inch from his chest. Staring at the gun, Seamus gulped, although a small, small part of him wondered if it wouldn't just be better to be shot quickly. Certainly it would be a better death than what the magog or ubers would hand out. Then he remembered Brendan and Eoin, and these thoughts were driven from his mind.  
  
"I'm sorry, I know I should have asked first, it's just...I finished the slipstream drive, it wasn't too bad off you know, and I took a look at some of the other systems. A lot of them are in a bad fix, so I figured I'd go ahead and take care of them," He glanced from the gun to Beka's face and back again nervously.  
  
"Yeah, and then your boss can charge me extra, is that it? You sure are lucky Bobby's sick and sleeping, or you'd be dead by now."  
  
"If you don't believe me, take a look at them yourself! And who's Bobby?"  
  
"My boyfriend, not that it's any mudfoot's business. Now stand up." A little disappointed to find that she was taken, but only a little since he could tell she was older than him by more than a year, he stood up, still staring at the gun. Not moving her hand holding the gun, Beka scanned the screen with the life support data. Running through the information, her look first turned to that of surprise, than softened as she realized she was still threatening him with death. Lowering the gun, she smiled ever so slightly.  
  
"See?" Seamus said, not being able to keep a smirk from his face. Beka's smile turned into a frown as she returned her gun to her side.  
  
"Well what should I think you were doing, holed up in my engineering rooms for the whole day," At her last words, Seamus turned, if it was possible, pale.  
  
"What? You mean I've been here the whole day?" Confused, Beka nodded.  
  
"Holy crap, I gotta get back!" Not only would Cal be angry he had been gone so long, what if Eoin showed up and Seamus wasn't there to explain about him? Beka still looked confused and followed when Seamus quickly gathered his tools and ran back off the ship.  
  
"Hey!" Beka called after him. Seamus paused and turned to look back at her.  
  
"How much of the deal do you get paid?" She asked quietly, thoughts forming in her head. Seamus just laughed, shaking his head.  
  
"My pay's given in food in clothing, obviously," Obviously indeed, Beka thought, looking at his ragged clothing and too skinny frame. Shaking these thoughts from her mind, she continued,  
  
"Well, if you can come back and fix up the Maru some more, I'll pay you directly." Seamus looked stunned. "It won't be much, if I was rich I'd have paid the Nietzscheans to do it," She felt it was only fair to make this part clear. Beka almost couldn't make out his nod in the fading light, and then he turned and continued to run. Rubbing her temple, she walked back inside.  
  
"I'm sorry, I lost track of time!"  
  
"Don't talk back to me! You want me to throw you back out on the streets so you can starve to death?!" Cal screamed, swinging another fist at Seamus. He tried to duck, but lost his balance and got hit on the side of his jaw instead. Kicking him to the floor, Cal hissed, "What have I always told you? Time is money! I had another client expecting you this evening! You're not supposed to take the whole day to finish a job. A few hours a day for a couple of weeks is what makes money, boy," He ground his foot into Seamus' shoulder. Wincing, he tried to shove Cal away, but the man was much bigger than Seamus. After another hour of this 'lecture' Cal at last let Seamus climb to his feet and stumble up the stairs. There he found Eoin waiting for him silently.  
  
"You alright?" Eoin caught Seamus chin and lifted it up in the light, examining the dark bruises starting to form there. Jerking away, Seamus nodded sullenly. "Well, whether you are or not, I've got something that'll cheer you up," Confused, Seamus gave him a puzzled look.  
  
"Hey there cousin," He heard a deep voice say. Scarcely daring to believe it, Seamus whirled around to see Brendan emerge from a darkened corner. "Long time no see," Without another sound they embraced. Seamus was dumbfounded; how had Uncle Eoin found him so quickly? Not that he cared; soon the three of them were exchanging stories. Apparently Brendan had been looking for Seamus too, but when he heard he'd been taken to the labs, he'd sadly given him up for dead. For the past year he'd been on the outskirts of the city, working for a new group of gang members. Word had reached him of two escapees from the labs and he'd been hopeful enough to think one of them might have been Seamus, so he returned to look for him. Eoin had found him earlier that morning.  
  
Finally, after many hours, the two older men convinced Seamus that he'd need his sleep to be able to work tomorrow. The three made beds on the floor and settled in. Seamus couldn't remember the last time he'd been so happy-probably not since he and Kylie had escaped.  
  
Just as he was starting to fall asleep, it occurred to him that for almost an entire day, Seamus had been on a ship: and not once had he tried to escape, either by hiding or pleading with that woman-Beka-to help him run away. Not understanding what that might mean, he rolled over and went to sleep.  
  
End of Volume 2: Chapter 1  
  
Wow, I had so meant to make this longer. Word says it's eight pages long, and maybe if I drag all of this out I can make three volumes as I had first intended to do. I hope it wasn't too boring. I also apologize for not introducing Bobby; I have never 'met' his character and honestly I'm confused about him. All fan fiction writers depict him as a real jerk, which I can believe, and Harper obviously never liked him, but in the book (Destruction of Illusions) Beka calls him an idealist, always the one going on missions. So I'm still debating how to have his character be. Any advice is welcome.  
  
Oh yes, that little flashback..hehe.. I just inserted it to reveal that, according to the Irish name website I was looking at, the name 'Seamus' really does mean, "trips by the heel," kinda fitting, isn't it? Another piece of interesting information; my older sister was a big Star Trek fan and she has this big encyclopedia of every single character in the series that was given a name. Out of curiosity, I looked through the 'H' section, and there was a character with the last name Harper! And he was an engineer! (Granted, I think he died in the same episode he first appeared in, he was only a very minor character, but still!) Ok, I've rambled on long enough. Please be kind enough to let me know what you think of this. All of my thanks, Luna Sealeaf Runicprincess@aol.com 


	2. Fading Hope

Having reread chapter 1 of Volume 2, I realized how bad it was, at least in comparison to how good I had wanted it to be. So, since I cannot change chapter 1, I have decided to try and make up for it with chapter 2. Enjoy.  
*On a further note, in chapter one, the ages said 16-17, and I wrote that part when I had meant to make it much, much longer. Then I forgot to go back and change it, so you might as well disregard it, although he is sixteen in the end of that chapter, as he is in the beginning of this one. Sorry about that.  
  
Disclaimer: I own none of these characters that are from Andromeda, and I am not making a profit from writing this.  
  
Pronunciation: The Irish names, meanings, spellings, and pronunciations are all correct, as far as I know.  
Bronagh (Bro-nah)  
Kaleigh (Kay-lee)  
Eoin (Owe-in)  
Declan (Deck-lawn)  
Siobhan (Shiv-an)  
  
Volume 2: Chapter 2  
Fading Hope  
Age:16-17  
  
The darkness enveloped him like a smothering blanket. The night air was cold, the smell of decay and filth were fresh in the air. Seamus wrapped the blanket around his body tightly, watching the ground as he walked and tried to stifle his coughs. Eoin hadn't wanted him to go, not after he'd spent an entire day working on other ships, but Seamus couldn't pass up the chance to earn some money. That is, if he could trust that woman, Beka, which he doubted he could. Still, he had to take his chances.  
  
Brendan had disappeared again, said he had work to do and that he would return later that night. Grimacing, Seamus wondered what he had meant by 'work'. Probably the same thing Cal made him do, delivering items for the black market.  
  
Lights shown in the darkness, the dock lay up ahead. Quickening his pace, Seamus then froze when he heard footsteps behind him. Wishing he had thought to bring a weapon, he slid a heavy metal tool from his belt and gripped it in his hand, then kept walking as the footsteps became silent. The docks were closed at night; at least, they were for people like him. However he still knew some ways to get in without being noticed, and he planned to use them.  
  
The gates to the docks had just come into view when he felt a hard hand grab his shoulder. Spinning, Seamus knocked the arm off of him with a heavy blow from the tool-a small welder-and jumped away. His blood ran cold at the sight of four young male Nietzscheans stepping into the dim glow of light and smiling. They were probably younger than he was, but they were much taller-with much bigger muscles.  
  
"What would a scrawny kludge such as yourself be doing after curfew?" The one who had grabbed his shoulder spit out. The other three circled around him, and Seamus nervously shifted his stance.  
  
"I'm working," Were the first words that came out of his mouth. "Shouldn't little kids like you be in bed right now? I imagine your parents are worried," He listened to the words with horror, which doubled when he realized that he had said them. Snarling, the one who had first talked grabbed onto his throat, tightly, lifting his wiry body off the ground, then slammed him down onto his back, knocking the breath out of him.  
  
"And where are your parents, human? Didn't they teach you to respect your betters?" With a cry at the mention of his parents-how dare they talk about them?-Seamus managed to kick the one in front of him in the stomach before the others pinned him to the ground. The leader of the little group recovered from the blow and smiled maliciously.  
  
"I think we shall have to teach the little kludge a lesson, my brothers. Shall we show him the many uses of our blades?" The others laughed, and Seamus struggled harder against their grips. He was pressed down harder, and he could no longer see what the one who had spoken was doing. Suddenly he felt a sharp, searing pain in his leg, then another in his opposite arm. He tried to cry out, but one of them wrapped an arm around his face and kept him from making a sound-or breathing, for that matter. Just when he thought he was going to die, either from having his throat slit or by suffocation, there was a heavy blow to his head, and he fell limp.  
  
When he regained consciousness, it was still dark. Groaning, he sat up, and then quickly lay back down. Blood ran from the side of his head down his face and it dripped down his right arm and his left leg. His whole body ached and he cursed himself for the idiot that he was, although he remembered to curse the Nietzscheans as well, and for good measure he threw in Cal. Finally, he decided that he couldn't lie down forever and after a few minutes of struggling-his left leg wouldn't support any weight- he managed to stand. Now, should he return to Cal's and have Eoin fix him up, or should he keep going and work on the Maru?  
  
With a sigh, he turned and continued walking, or rather, hobbling, to the dock. Using an entrance he'd been shown years ago, he slipped inside and quietly made his way to the ship whose owner would hopefully still let him work for extra money as she had said she would.  
  
"Captain Beka," He called softly, knocking again on the entrance door to the Maru. He paused to cough, thinking how nice it was of the Uber brats to give him a few flesh wounds on top of the cold he already had. At last, the door opened and Seamus looked up to explain, and stopped when he found himself staring up at a man. A tall man, with dark hair and who was staring at him with a strange look on his face.  
  
"'Scuse me, is Captain Beka around?" He asked quietly, wondering if this man was the "Bobby" she had spoken of the day before.  
  
"Who the hell are you?" Was the gruff reply. The man crossed his arms and stared down at Seamus. Feeling much too tired to be dealing with this of all things, Seamus replied angrily, although he didn't have enough strength to make his words very shocking.  
  
"Who in hell is right; cause guess where you are? In hell," He turned to leave, the man casting a puzzled look behind him when he heard a voice ask,  
  
"What's going on Bobby?" Beka's clear and commanding, though also tired sounding, voice cut into the night. Seamus kept walking, berating himself for coming back in the first place. He heard the man, Bobby, reply in a tone of confusion,  
  
"Some kid was knocking on the door, and then asked for a 'Captain Beka'," The man laughed but was silenced quickly, perhaps by one of the glares Seamus had experienced himself the day before.  
  
"Hey, wait a minute, Seamus-"Beka called after him, recognizing the blonde youth. Seamus turned around, interrupting her to say,  
  
"It's Harper," When she said his name it made him feel like a child; he didn't like feeling that way, especially since most people had trouble taking him seriously as an engineer in the first place.  
  
"Harper then...what are you doing here so late at night? I thought you wouldn't be back until morning," Still not turning around, Seamus shrugged his uninjured shoulder.  
  
"Cal thinks I'm finished here and he's got other clients for me to work on, so I figured I'd fix your ship at night, if that's ok with you," Bobby was asking Beka what this was all about, but she hushed him and finally he went back inside. Then Beka walked down to where Seamus was.  
  
"It's not polite to turn your back to people when you're talking to them," She was actually joking, mostly, since she'd never been one for formalities and etiquette, but she still preferred to be able to see the face of someone she was talking to. "And when did you plan on sleeping?" She asked out of curiosity.  
  
"I don't need more than a few hours of sleep, and I can get by with none at all," As he answered, he turned around, still staring at the ground, wondering if there was as much blood as he thought there was. When she didn't say anything, he at last looked up. She was biting her lip and staring down at him.  
  
"Come on; get inside before the guards see you. I don't think you're supposed to be out here, are you?" Slowly, Seamus shook his head, then followed her as she walked into the Maru. "I'll be right back," She explained, then went to find Bobby, adding as she walked down the hall, "Don't steal anything; I'll know it's you," For a few minutes, Seamus stood there; then he remembered where the engineering room was and he made his way down there, admiring the inside of the ship as he did.  
  
In one way, it reminded him of the Nietzschean science lab, but perhaps that was merely the strange smelling air. He liked the ship better though, there was a cozy feeling. You could tell that people lived here. Thinking of the lab made him think of Kylie, so he turned his attention elsewhere. Reaching the engineering room, he took out one of the rags looped through his tool belt, wiped off the blood so it wouldn't get on anything, and began working. It surprised him that the ship could even fly, it was almost literally falling apart, and he felt a strange desire to make her the best she could be, for the ship's sake and not just for the money.  
  
"Oh no, you are not getting blood on my ship, are you?" Seamus had to almost literally tear himself away from the part he was fixing to focus on her words. When he did, he scowled, since the pain returned and his body felt stiff. When he was working it was so easy to slip in a state of unawareness to the rest of the world. He had been working on his back to get to the lower control panel, and he felt Beka pull him roughly to his feet.  
  
"Hey-"He protested, and then she pushed a small plastic bottle and a white cloth into his hand.  
  
"Here, at least stop the bleeding before you work! Maybe you should wait until you're healed," Eyeing him skeptically, as though she wasn't sure he would ever heal all that was wrong with him, Seamus stared at the bottle of liquid. Sniffing it, he looked up at her in surprise. Why would alcohol stop the bleeding, and what did she expect him to do with such a clean, white piece of cloth? It was much too small to use for anything.  
  
"Uh, thanks, I'm fine," He mumbled. They stood there awkwardly for a few more moments, then Beka finally turned around and left, telling him he could get to work. Not sure what to do with the things she had given him, he stuffed them in his pockets and returned to the panel he'd been working on.  
  
Almost an hour later, Beka returned quietly. Seamus noticed, but didn't say anything. Apparently she became bored with just watching him work and took out a flexi-he'd seen Nietzscheans using them in the dock stations-and began to read. What she was reading, Seamus didn't know, but occasionally she would laugh. Finally, having finished with one job he asked her what was so funny. Glancing up at him in surprise, she tried to explain the plot. When he understood the humor, Seamus grinned too. Finding that talking didn't distract him, sometimes Beka would pause her reading and either tell him what was going on in the story, or ask him questions. Her questions usually weren't very personal, but curiously she inquired,  
  
"Where did you learn so much about ships?" Seamus thought it an odd question. Where did anyone learn about ships? "I mean, who taught you how they worked or how to fix them?" No, of course they hadn't. Seamus was confused, and finally shrugged, replying  
  
"I don't know, I guess I just figured it out. I mean, it's not that hard," Beka gave him a look of disbelief and shook her head, but didn't ask anything else.  
  
Weeks passed, and Seamus kept the same routine. His wounds healed fairly quickly, but his cold lingered and worsened. Since the magog attacks had increased, though thankfully not on the camp itself, food was scarce. With almost no food and little sleep, Seamus wasn't doing much to help his body fight off the cold. Eoin and Brendan both told him to take it easy, but he couldn't. Even Brendan had to admit that if Seamus stopped working on the Maru, they wouldn't be able to buy enough food for all of them to live on, since prices had skyrocketed. Cal wouldn't give him the day off, but told him to not cough so much when he was working. Customers were starting to notice and complain. So he muddled on, finding that sleep was a fair trade for enjoying the night. He spent the first half of each night at the Maru, working on it and chatting with Beka. It seemed she and her boyfriend weren't as peachy as they used to be, and she liked having extra company. He would never be so stupid as to trust her of course, but he did think she was one of the nicest clients he'd worked for, not to mention one of the prettiest. When he finally returned to Cal's shop, usually because Beka threw him out, complaining about the time, he returned to his room upstairs, where Eoin and Brendan waited for him.  
  
One night, after a fit of coughing while working at the Maru, Beka frowned and walked over to him.  
  
"Are you sick or something?" She asked gruffly, trying not to sound too concerned, which he appreciated.  
  
"Nah, this is just how us earthers breathe, haven't you noticed?" He grinned and laughed, which turned into a hacking cough, then went back to working, ignoring her quiet reply of,  
  
"Yes, I have," Not liking the tense silence that followed, Seamus shifted and asked louder,  
  
"So why are you staying here so long anyway? I mean, most people who come here aren't sane in the first place, but if they are, they leave as soon as they can. Isn't your slipstream drive working?" Silence followed, as Beka wondered what to tell him and Seamus almost took back the question as a joke.  
  
"Yeah, it is actually. In fact, the slipstream was only part of the reason we ended up here...we're doing some deliveries for the Nietzscheans," She finally replied. His slow nod, as though she had just proved something he had thought all along, made her feel guilty and ashamed. She didn't like feeling that way, and it made her mad. "It's not like we're really helping them, but I really need the money, and they pay well," Still, Seamus didn't say anything, he merely continued working. Annoyed that he seemed to be angry at her, or worse, judging her, she said angrily, "I don't like Nietzscheans anymore than the next normal human, but haven't you ever done something you didn't want to do?" Standing up, Seamus wiped his greasy hands on his pants, eyes downcast.  
  
"Well, looks like I'm about done for the night. See ya tomorrow," With a curt nod, he walked out. Beka was stunned. He had never left of his own free will before. Was he that mad just because she was working for Nietzscheans? You'd think he'd be a little more grateful, she thought. A smaller voice in her mind sneered at her though; Grateful that someone on the side of the Nietzscheans decided to be so gracious as to spend a little of their oppressor's money on their hard labor? Ignoring both of these thoughts, she turned the lights off in the engine room and shut the door behind her.  
  
After that, Seamus didn't come as often, sometimes staying home for a night. He explained that he needed his sleep, tired of having the cold for over two months. She'd accepted it of course, what else could she do? When he did come, he didn't talk as much though. Some nights he seemed to forget their earlier discussion and be his normal, joking self. Most nights, it felt like brick wall had been built in the engineering room, right in between the two. Beka told herself she didn't care. After all, she'd be leaving soon, and he was just a stupid mudfoot. But with her and Bobby fighting more and more often and there being few friendly faces on Earth, she felt lonely. It was a feeling she was all too used to, and one she despised.  
  
"So what does this space babe look like exactly that she has you returning to her ship all the time?" Brendan teased. Eoin, Brendan, and Seamus were in the room above the workshop, sharing dinner: moldy bread and a bottle of homemade beer.  
  
"I told you, she's old and ugly," Seamus replied calmly. Eoin laughed at his remark.  
  
"She sure must have aged fast then. If I recall, when you first met her, you called her...what was it again Brendan?" Smiling, he looked over to his other nephew, ignoring Seamus' red face.  
  
"I believe the word he used was an 'angel'," Brendan said. The two laughed, and Seamus said quietly, grimacing,  
  
"Yeah, she's a real angel, no wonder the Nietzscheans like her," Brendan and Eoin fell silent, sensing from his tone that he didn't want to talk about it. "Besides, she's leaving in a week anyway,"  
  
"Is she coming back?"  
  
"I dunno...she said not for another year, probably, if she ever does."  
  
"Why would she want to?" Brendan asked, tearing off a piece of the bread and eating it slowly.  
  
"Said something 'bout a contract renewal, I dunno," The three fell silent, until Eoin changed the subject.  
)***(  
  
Two more months passed by. Seamus observed his seventeenth birthday by having Eoin and Brendan take him 'out' to celebrate. It was a fun night, in comparison to most, and Seamus enjoyed the fact that it was his first birthday since he turned 9 that he spent among family. His sixteenth had gone undistinguished, as he'd been in the lab, with Kylie, and hadn't been able to keep track of the days.  
  
"I don't miss her, I'm getting more sleep now. I just wished I still had money," Seamus told himself every day. Whether it was Beka or the Maru that he missed, his mind never made clear, but it was true that he did need the money he'd been making. Food was nowhere to be found, and all three of them were thinner than every. Eoin would sometimes tell them stories about their family, to distract them, despite the fact that their ages were 20 and 17, respectively.  
  
"Now then, as you know, my parents-your grandparents-came over here from Ireland just after little Bronagh was able to walk. Both of your fathers were on the ship that we took, that's how Kaleigh met Brian and Bronagh met Zelazny." Brendan was always quiet when Brian Lahey, his father, was mentioned. He had never known him, since he had died when Brendan was barely three. "I didn't meet Cassie until we had moved. Of course, we knew the Nietzscheans had taken over, but in Ireland they hadn't been too strict, spending most of their energy on Britain and the rest of Europe. 'Sides, us Irish have always been fighting for our independence, them Ubers had a hard time trying to control us," Brendan and Seamus exchanged glances and small smiles. They're parents had always been proud of the fact that they were Irish, although in that time of interstellar travel, people of one planet were generally grouped together.  
  
Eoin usually liked to stop the story there, saying that was where most of the happiness ended, excepting the births of his nephews and children, of course.  
  
It was only a week later that Seamus awoke to screaming. Screaming and noise so loud it hurt his ears. Confused, he glanced over at his uncle, only to find his bed empty. Brendan was gone as well. Worried now, Seamus scrambled to his feet, pulling on a shirt and running down the stairs.  
  
"Cal! What's going on?" He called out, but there was no answer. The screaming and shouting continued. He pushed open the door, looked out. Reflexively he slammed the door shut again, the blood drained from his face. Gasping for breath, he stumbled over a chair in the room.  
  
"Oh God," He said softly, his voice hoarse.  
  
End of Chapter 2  
Volume 2  
  
Was it a cliffhanger? Are you curious to find out what happens next? Well, guess what, so am I! No, I do have some vague idea of what is going on. Anyway, I certainly hope this chapter made up for the last one. It was so terrible-I think I'm going to have nightmares for weeks over how bad it was. I blame the withdrawal—from Andromeda that is! ( Ok, well if you get a chance, let me know what you think of this chapter. And thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed chapter 1, horrid though it was, and special thanks to everyone's who's been reading this since the beginning. I must say this is the first fanfic I've actually enjoyed writing! (By the way, I originally had intended to make this chapter much, much longer. You may thank my sister/writing adviser for the change to a cliffhanger.)  
-Luna Sealeaf  
  
**P.S.** This is just to note that the next chapter will be rated R. I hope that doesn't conflict with anyone's ability or desire to read it. 


	3. The World Turned Upside Down

Oh no! Is this really the end of Volume 2? But nothing's happened! Ah!! Well, guess I'll just have to change that...  
Hope you all enjoyed the cliffhanger, promise not to do it again! (maybe )...)  
Thank you to everyone's review for Chapter 2, I really, really appreciate it! You're all too kind.  
  
Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, I'm certainly not making any profit off of this, I serve only to amuse.  
  
*Warning* More as a precaution than anything else, I've rated this R for graphic violence. At least, I think it's graphic, later on in the story. Anyway, I hope this does not deter too many people from reading.  
  
Pronunciation: The Irish names, meanings, spellings, and pronunciations are all correct, as far as I know.  
Bronagh (Bro-nah)  
Kaleigh (Kay-lee)  
Eoin (Owe-in)  
Declan (Deck-lawn)  
Siobhan (Shiv-an)  
  
Volume 2: Chapter 2  
The World Turned Upside Down  
Age:17&Up  
  
If ponies rode men and grass ate cows,  
  
And cats were chased into holes by the mouse . . .  
  
If summer were spring and the other way round,  
  
Then all the world would be upside down.  
-Traditional British folksong  
  
Blood. Blood was everywhere; it was in the air, it flooded the ground, and it seemed to rain from the very sky. The smell of it, the feel of it, could not be detached from one's skin. Death mingled with the blood. Death lent its scent, its coldness, to the blood and the air, to create a kaleidoscope of carnage. Seamus Harper thought that in his fairly short life, he had seen enough death to not be bothered by it; he thought he had become insensitive to the deaths of strangers. Seamus Harper was wrong.  
  
For as he knelt on the floor, mind freezing with fear and breath coming out in gasps, the sight he'd seen outside the door ran through his mind, over and over.  
  
Thousands of magog swarmed the city. Seamus had seen a magog attack before; but this was so much worse. The Nietzscheans were the only ones with the power and weapons to fight against the alien monsters; but instead of allowing the 'kludges' to run and escape for their lives, they decided to harness them in their attack plan. Fences had been raised around most of the city; the same fences used whenever the Ubers thought that there might be some slaves trying to escape. Now they were used to cage the people in, the only entrances filled with magog coming in to take their prey.  
  
The people of Boston Harbor Refugee Camp, Earth, were being used as live bait to make it safer for the Nietzscheans to form their attack. Any kludge who had managed to not get caught in the cage of death was shot--in the leg, so that they were immobilized but not dead. After all, magog had to eat their meat while it was still alive.  
  
The screams of the dying filled Seamus' ears. Struggling not to hyperventilate, his usually rational frame of mind was not obeying his commands. Think of something! Do something! His inner self screamed, but his brain seemed to have frozen. Where were Brendan and Uncle Eoin? Where the hell was Cal? They couldn't have been taken, or else Seamus would not have been left. Why hadn't they woken him up if they'd left of their own free will? He shuddered; his blood running cold at the thought that perhaps they'd gotten caught among the large fences, which before had only signified their lack of freedom, now signified certain death.  
  
Loud crashes from outside the building finally awoke him from his frozen state of mind. Not daring to look out the window, he raced to the back door, pulled it open, and dashed into the chaos of the hell around him.  
  
Now what? His first instinct was to run; but where to? He heard something enter Cal's repair shop, and broke into a run. His heart was pounding so hard he thought for sure it would burst. Even as he increased his speed; the sounds of magog filled his ears. Desperately, he searched his mind. Where did safety lie? The dump? The ship dockings? Loud screams and growls filled his ears, but he kept running, too afraid to look behind him. Suddenly, images of a hidden cave ran through his mind. With a destination in mind, Seamus reoriented himself, trying to remember the way to the ocean, and hopefully safety. Tears of fear were running down his face. In the back of his mind he cursed himself for a coward. He ought to be going the other way, searching for his cousin and uncle, but his legs would not stop running, and his mind overruled his heart: there was nothing he could do for Brendan or Eoin, and he didn't have the first clue as to where to start looking for them.  
  
So he ran; keeping low to the ground until he reached the border regions of the city. Here now were the fields of dead plants that Brendan had taken him over all those years ago, back when Seamus had thought that waking up and finding his father's corpse would be the worst thing to ever happen to him. Still running, near collapse and breathless, he at last saw in the distance that black, rolling mass of water, now sickened and without life after so many years of poison from both humans and Nietzscheans alike.  
  
The screams still rang in his head, and sobs racked his body as he stumbled down the steep cliff overlooking the beach. Ironic that such a place, void of life as it was, would serve as a haven for Seamus. He reached the end of the cliffs and now searched for the entrance, pulling at odd-shaped stones for what seemed like hours until at last a hole opened in the face of the cliff. With a loud grinding noise, the door began to slide open, and Seamus crawled inside. A stench hung heavy in the hair and he nearly retched, but managed to only gag as he looked about him. A few streams of light came in through the cracks in the wall and the doorway. Quickly he realized what had made the awful smell; bodies, dozens of them, were stacked up in the cave, some mostly bones, others merely half rotted corpses. One of them he thought he recognized as the brown haired leader of the small group of child gang members. There was no sign as to what had killed them, and Seamus had a feeling that their story would go unheard for eternity.  
  
Turning away, Seamus huddled near the entrance, wondering how long he would have to stay before it would be safe to leave.  
  
Despite his terror and the smell of the horrible bodies only feet away from him, Seamus managed to sleep, lulled by the sound of the waves crashing against the dark beach. It was a restless sleep; his past merged into a stream of horrors. The magog attack on his village; watching his cousins, Siobhan and Declan, slowly dying and wasting away. Listening to his mother being killed above him, waking up to find his father dead. Holding Kylie as she shuddered and died...Just when he was about to wake up screaming, his dreams suddenly changed. He was flying; the stars spinning around him. A beautiful figure walked towards him, smiling and holding out her hand. Seamus couldn't see her well, but he saw that she had red hair: First she looked like his mother, but no, it was his cousin Siobhan-or was it Kylie? The last face it took was Beka's, forming in his mind just as he awoke.  
  
Drenched in sweat, he shivered and tried to look through the cracks of the wall. The sleep had left him more tired than he'd been before. Still, he tried to remember that feeling of peace he'd finally felt as he was waking up. He was so tired of it all...life had become more pain than pleasure. Feeling angry, he pushed the door to the cave open and stumbled out into the dark night. With half a mind to simply go somewhere and die, he walked forward, towards the dark ocean. The cool breeze blew against him and then he felt the water enclose his feet. Still he kept walking, wondering if the stories were true and the water would poison him. In the dark, he couldn't see where he was walking, and the ground was slippery. Losing his footing, he slipped and with a curse fell into the water. For a moment it sheltered him entirely; then he broke to the surface, floating on his back. Spitting out the water, he opened his eyes and felt a moment of confusion. He was staring up at the stars, which suddenly seemed brighter than normal.  
  
Wondering if he was dying, Seamus tried to stand up. A glow of light caught the corner of his eye. Turning he saw a large cloud of smoke and a red haze coming from the city. All thoughts of dying gone, he hurried back to land. What did the fire mean? Was it a good sign or a bad one? Ignoring the chill of the wind against his dripping wet self, he knew that he had to go back. There was nothing else he could do. Certain death by starvation or dehydration lay in one direction, while only highly probable death lay in another.  
  
Steeling his nerves, he began to walk back to the city. Gathering speed, as he drew closer he broke into a run; a cautious run, but still a run. Chaos appeared to still reign over the city. Staying in the shadows of the taller buildings; he avoided the Nietzscheans running around. To his relief, he didn't see any magog; but then, neither did he see any normal people. Almost too terrified to look, he made his way slowly to the center of the square. The gates were still up, but there were no longer any screams. Falling to his knees, Seamus threw up automatically. Numbly, his mind tried to process what his eyes saw. Instead of hundreds of trapped people screaming for release, there were hundreds upon hundreds of corpses all heaped into a pile. They were the fuel for the fire he had seen nearly three miles away.  
  
Mixed in with the humans he saw bodies of magog, but it was the humans that had shocked him so. Although he was sure he couldn't bear it, he went still closer. The body of a little girl was pressed up against the metal gate; her sightless green eyes open as the fire spread. Staring at her for either an eternity or a mere second, he wasn't sure which; Seamus at last dragged himself away. There were so many dead; their twisted bodies packed against other. How could there be so many? Cynically he wondered if Brendan or Eoin were trapped somewhere in the tall pillar of bodies. His family...he had to find them. Checking to make sure there weren't any Nietzschean guards nearby, he again broke into a run. If either were alive, they would have returned to Cal's. As he ran through the eerily empty streets, he shuddered in fear at the sight of all the magog bodies. To his bitter relief, there were almost as many Uber bodies lying on the ground as well. It was only a small comfort however.  
  
Reaching Cal's workshop, the place he had reluctantly called 'home', he ran inside the dilapidated building with much apprehension. Obviously magog or Nietzscheans or both had gone through, but there was no sign of any humans. Where were they? Tears of anger welled up in his eyes. Walking out the back door-the same one he'd run out of earlier-he slammed it shut behind him. What now? He asked silently, staring up at the starry sky.  
  
"Sea-Seamus..." A hoarse voice said softly. Eyes widening, Seamus looked around furiously. His heart stopped; there was a still form lying near the store. Too choked and worried to say anything in return, he rushed over to the side.  
  
"Uncle Eoin?" Staring at the still form of his beloved Uncle, Seamus' voice broke. Covered in blood, Seamus wondered how he had managed to escape death.  
  
"Seamus...my nephew," Eoin's eyes focused slightly and Seamus nodded encouragement.  
  
"I'm here, you're gonna be ok," He said softly, trying to look over the older man's body.  
  
"Seamus...I've been infested, there's nothing you can do," Eoin said softly. Shaking his head angrily, Seamus didn't answer. Instead he tried to pick up Eoin, but he didn't have the strength. "It's ok Seamus, I didn't intend on lying here and waiting for death," Staring at him in incomprehension, Eoin gestured weakly to his stomach. Hands trembling, Seamus raised the tattered shirt. The dark had masked the well of blood coming from Eoin.  
  
"No...why..." Seamus couldn't finish. Dammit, it wasn't fair, what had Eoin done to himself?  
  
"Seamus, I'd have died anyway, I was able to kill the magog that did this, and then I was able to kill its offspring. I can't think of a better way to die," Still shaking his head slowly, Seamus squeezed his eyes shut. "I wish...I wish Brendan were here. Tell him, I love him, will you? And...and stay here with me, will you boy?" Nodding numbly, Seamus slumped to his knees and grasped Eoin's hand. Neither said anything more. All Seamus could hear was the faint, angry call of Why? Running through his mind.  
)***(  
  
It occurred to Seamus, some hours later, that he ought to bury his uncle's body, but at the moment he didn't have the strength. He didn't even have anything to cover the body with. All he could do was close Eoin's eyes and slowly make his way back inside the shop. Just as he entered the building, he slumped to his knees and threw up, again. Although he had eaten nothing for almost 48 hours, he kept retching until, exhausted and shaking, he climbed up the stairs and collapsed on one of the bed mats.  
  
Seamus would never be sure how long he slept; it could have been weeks for all he knew, but it could not have been more than a few days, since otherwise he probably would have starved to death. However long it was, Seamus later awoke to the sounds of heavy boots tramping through the small building. Opening his eyes, he brushed away a few flies that had made a home on the dried blood of some small cuts. Trying to focus his thoughts, he was too weak from lack of food or drink to sit up, he called out dumbly,  
  
"Brendan? Is that you?" His voice was dry and his throat ached; he didn't even recognize his own voice.  
  
"I heard something upstairs, come on," Groaning, Seamus turned over onto his stomach. The voice wasn't Brendan-to his ears it sounded like a Nietzschean. Several other deep voices answered and he heard footsteps climbing the rickety stairs. Desperately, he tried to crawl into a corner so he could hide. Nothing good could come of his being found by Ubers.  
  
"So, crawling away like the worm you are?" The Nietzscheans had reached the small upper floor and were sneering at Seamus' pathetic attempt to get away. They all carried heavy guns, and the one that had spoken stepped forward to kick Seamus in the ribs. The force of the kick made him roll and hit the wall, where he decided to simply lie. Perhaps dying wouldn't be too bad.  
  
"Do you know how many of our finest warriors died fighting the magog? And for what? So that the likes of you could escape?" The one that had kicked him shouted. Please, just go away, Seamus thought silently. "Well, never mind that. The return of an escaped slave may help to boost morale. We shall find some use for you, and you may thank us for sparing your miserable life," Dimly Seamus was aware that forms were approaching him, he felt another swift kick to his stomach and then he was thrown over a muscular shoulder, the room going dark around him.  
  
Seamus' living nightmare seemed to keep getting worse. When he came to, he was chained along with other kludges in a small metal room. The other forms around him were pale and silent, and Seamus felt no desire to break the silence. It soon became apparent however that they were in some sort of transport vehicle. One woman broke down and started screaming that they were all going to be killed.  
  
"Hush woman! We are not going to die; didn't you hear them? We're slaves for the palace," A man nearby finally said in a firm voice.  
  
This did not help Seamus to relax at all. It seemed as though his dreams of escaping Earth were slipping through his fingers like so many grains of sand. The palace was where the leaders of the Drago-Katzov pride living on Earth stayed. No one really knew much about it, and those who had been taken as slaves to work there had never returned.  
  
When they arrived and were led out, still chained in long lines to one another, they could see that the Palace was not as fine as the name might have led one to believe. It was little more than a concrete building, with few adornments, and many thick wires of fence. Guards streamed around the grounds, along with well dressed aliens and Nietzscheans. Obviously this was where all official business was done. The new slaves were not brought in through the main gate; they were taken to a side door near the back.  
  
The rooms inside were small and dank, and once inside they were divided into groups. The different groups seemed rather random to Seamus. There was an overweight, tall Nietzschean with a scowl who was directing where to take the different groups, with younger Nietzscheans scurrying to lead them away. Seamus felt a sinking sensation in his stomach as his group was led down a dark hallway. He was near the front and heard clearly as the young Nietzschean began to explain what there duties would be for.  
  
"You should consider yourselves privileged. You will be the house slaves, serving food, drink, cleaning, and entertaining all the leaders here. Each morning you will report to the kitchen for your daily chores, the other slaves will show you where it is, as well as the serving hall and officials' quarters." Pausing to eye the slaves, the boy Nietzschean sneered. "You will also be given uniforms." The slaves remained silent, though Seamus sneered right back at the Uber, who he was sure couldn't be any older than he was. Angrily he tried to slip his hands through the chains, but they were too tight. The Nietzschean smiled at him as he pushed open a heavy door.  
  
"Here are your quarters. Welcome to your new home," The Nietzscheans eyes and remained fixed on Seamus' as the people in front of him moved into the room, dragging him along.  
  
The next few days seemed like some sort of bizarre circus to Seamus. Everything was a blur in his memory later. Apparently the Nietzscheans didn't plan on taking any chances with rebellion: Part of their uniform were long manacles that gave them just enough room to be able to carry and serve food or drink, with a long chain that reached to their feet, where there were more manacles keeping their feet together. The rest of their uniforms were clearly meant to keep them humble; all were plain white sleeveless tunics, the same for the men, women, and children. In days, Seamus could no longer quite remember what it was like to not wear the degrading clothing and cumbersome chains. Each night the slaves lined up and had their manacles taken off so they could sleep. First thing in the morning they lined up again to have them all put on. After that they filed silently down to the kitchen where they were given orders. Some days Seamus served food to sneering Nietzscheans in their great hall, some days he served food to Nietzscheans in their private quarters. Cleaning was also part of their duties. With each day the exact same, Seamus feared that he would soon go mad.  
  
Three weeks after he'd been taken in, Seamus was serving breakfast to the captain of the guards in his bedroom. The Nietzschean was no where in sight, and Seamus found himself wandering to the large window, staring outside. He had not seen the sky or sunlight in days. In some ways his new predicament was a lot like his stay at the lab, only here no one wanted to make friends. Not when your friend could be killed or tortured for the amusement of Nietzschean guests the day after you met them. The worst of it for him was the boredom though. Seamus had nothing to occupy his mind with. There was no chance of escape, and he didn't even have the will to find a way to get his chains off. So he stood and soaked up the weak rays of light that streamed through the crystal glass.  
  
"What do you think you are doing?" The deep voice nearly caused Seamus to jump out of his skin. He turned around just in time to be backhanded to the floor. Marcus, the captain, was glowering down at him. Marcus was tall, well over six feet, and had broader shoulders than Seamus had ever seen. His skin was a dark tanned color; he was the picture of athleticism.  
  
"Since when do you own the sun too? Last time I checked it wasn't a crime to catch a few rays." Seamus spat out blood, as he stood up, glaring up at the larger man. Marcus smiled and gripped Seamus' jaw in his hands. He stared at the kludge for a few moments, perhaps thinking how easy it would be to crush his skull, but he calmly replied.  
  
"Forgive me for hitting you; I didn't realize you had such a pretty face, I'd hate to leave a scar on it." Seamus kneed the man in the stomach; he finally seemed to have woken from the trance his surroundings had put him in, and he didn't even care if he was killed. Marcus only laughed, having not even flinched at Seamus' blow. Instead he simply let go of Seamus, who was startled and off balance so that he fell against the bed.  
  
"And I didn't think we had a spirited slave left anymore. What entertainment." Seamus was shaking, wondering what Marcus meant to do with him, but the Nietzschean only looked at Seamus curiously, then sat down at the small table laden with food and began to eat. "What is your name, kludge?" Marcus asked at last.  
  
"Seamus Zelazany Harper," He replied defiantly, regaining his footing. Marcus laughed, appearing delighted.  
  
"The Seamus Harper? Well well, the one who escaped the labs?" Seamus nodded slowly, confused. "And if you could do anything right now, what would you do?" Seamus stared at Marcus, wondering what game he was playing.  
  
"I'd escape," He said snappishly, trying to cross his arms, but the chains prevented the movement, so he simply stood and glared at the Uber.  
  
"Yes, of course. But after you escaped, what would you do? What would you dedicate your life to?" This was ridiculous; Seamus had half a mind to simply walk out and stop this nonsense, but instead he thought a moment before answering.  
  
"I'd build things, and fix them." Marcus nodded slowly, an odd smile on his face. "Very good. You may leave me now," And with that, Marcus didn't look at Seamus, who left quickly, his mind spinning.  
  
The next morning he had almost forgotten about the episode, but when he reported to the kitchen he was told that Captain Marcus had requested to have Seamus transferred as his personal slave. Finding himself again in the Nietzscheans quarters, staring up at him, Seamus felt more than a little nervous.  
  
"Relax boy, I don't plan on harming you, not today at least." Seamus didn't move, and Marcus gestured to a table at the end of the room. Piled on it were tools and various gadgets. Seamus stared in disbelief at the table. "Build something. Anything, build whatever you want. Any tools or materials you need, I'll have them sent for," Seamus backed up against the door.  
  
"What do you want?" He asked harshly, but Marcus only laughed.  
  
"Don't ask questions. Just do as you're told." As Marcus cracked his fingers, Seamus nervously approached the table. Exploring the different tools, he found himself becoming excited. He could build a weapon, a weapon stronger than any of the Nietzscheans' and he'd disguise it somehow so it would appear harmless. Marcus sat and watched with amusement as Seamus quickly began to sort through the materials, his mind already far away from the small room and his captivity.  
  
When the light grew too dim to see well, Marcus laid a hand on Seamus' shoulder, causing the younger man to jump.  
  
"Enough for today. Fetch me dinner and then return to the slaves quarters," Disappointed, Seamus nodded and left. His excitement wasn't gone though, and he began counting the days it would take before he could break free.  
  
Almost eagerly Seamus reported to Marcus' rooms the next morning. After Marcus ate breakfast, he asked Seamus to stand before him.  
  
"Hold out your hand," Marcus was staring at Seamus in a way that made him feel ill.  
  
"Why?" He asked stubbornly. Marcus scowled and grabbed Seamus' wrist.  
  
"Don't ask questions," And with that, he broke Seamus' right pinky finger. The pain was excruciating. Seamus screamed, feeling his legs buckle, but Marcus held him up. "Be quiet. Now, return to your work," Gasping for breath, Seamus cradled his right finger and slowly returned to his tools, more determined than ever to escape. As he worked diligently, Marcus leaned back in a char and watched him. Carefully he studied the joy that was apparent on Seamus' face as he fit different pieces together. A few hours later, Marcus again sent Seamus away.  
  
The routine remained the same; to Seamus' intense pain however, each morning after he'd worked on his machine for a few hours, Marcus would call him over and break another finger. Each time the pain seemed worse, and each time Seamus had to work slower, since he couldn't move his broken fingers. On the tenth day, Seamus bit his lip unit it bled and tried not to scream or cry as his left pinky was broken. Marcus told him to work, and angrily Seamus screamed at him,  
  
"What's wrong with you?! How do you expect me to work?" Marcus only narrowed his eyes and jerked his head towards the table. Seamus couldn't help but cry furiously and silently as he struggled to use his tools. His machine was almost done. When it was finished it would be a large gun, able to kill the Nietzscheans silently. Bitterly, he decided to test it on Marcus first. After a few hours of working though, Marcus again called him over in an almost gentle voice. In his hand he held a sharp knife. Seamus almost hoped that Marcus intended to kill him as he slowly walked over to where the Captain stood.  
  
"Now then slave, tell me; what is your machine to be?" Mumbling, Seamus looked down at the floor.  
  
"A heater. It gets cold in the slaves' quarters." What happened next was so fast that Seamus at first didn't understand what had happened. Marcus reached out and grabbed Seamus' right hand, turning it so that the palm was facing up, and ran his knife through it. Seamus screamed, falling to the floor as Marcus turned the knife and then jerked it out. Feeling the muscles tear and the blood pouring out from his hand, Seamus was staring at it in disbelief.  
  
"Now, what is it you are really making?" Crying and rocking slightly, Seamus held his hand close to him, staring at the blood falling to the floor.  
  
"It's-it's a weapon," He at last gasped out. Marcus nodded as though he had known what Seamus was going to say. With his eyes squeezed shut, trying to block out the pain, Seamus didn't see Marcus grab his other hand, but he felt the pain as Marcus again ran his knife through the palm, twisted it, and withdrew it. Placing his hand over Seamus' mouth to block out the sound of his scream, he leaned over and whispered.  
  
"Know this: you are a slave. You belong to us; to me. You will never build or fix another 'gadget' again. Those hands of yours are useless now. There are medicines that could heal them, but you will never be able to get them, not now, not in fifty years. You are fit only to be a slave." Seamus tried to shake his head, eyes still shut, but Marcus tightened his grip on his mouth. "So tell me, do you accept that you are now nothing but a worthless slave? I would hate to leave scars on your fair face as well," Seamus was too numb with pain to even register the insult; he only nodded, willing to do anything to make the pain stop, but there was no end. Marcus let him lie on the floor, bleeding, as he broke Seamus' machine, tossing the delicate pieces onto the floor carelessly where some of them shattered. He then pulled Seamus, who was still silently screaming, to his feet and shoved him out of the room.  
  
"Now, return to your quarters, slave." He shoved him to the floor of the hallway and shut the door. Tremulously, Seamus stood and made his way to the slaves' room, staring down at his broken and bleeding hands through eyes blurred with tears.  
  
Months passed, and Seamus still did not heal completely. He lost more weight than he thought he had since slow slaves were not given full meals, and his hands turned purple and swollen from the broken fingers. Eventually they stopped bleeding, but left dark scars that made his hands look more like gloves than actual hands. Marcus had been right; he might as well have had rocks for hands; he couldn't move his fingers and the slightest movement of his hands caused agonizing pain. So it was that when he received the shock of his life, he almost didn't even care.  
  
Some sort of illness had been spreading through the slaves, several had already died from it, and Seamus had come down with it quickly. The fever sent chills through his body and his head ached. Thoughts of suicide had occupied his mind more and more frequently. He knew that given the chance for a quick and fairly painless death, he would take it. Marcus still summoned him almost every day, and he'd sent word that he was receiving a guest. Seamus carried a tray with wine and glasses on it. He wished Marcus dined in the great hall, but the captain preferred his privacy. So Seamus made the long walk to the rooms where Marcus entertained his guests. Standing outside the door, he listened to Marcus talk as he poured the drinks and prepared the plates of food.  
  
"I need at least three hundred more of those weapons, think you can find a few more shiploads?" A voice, Seamus assumed it was his guest, replied with a laugh.  
  
"Sure, but I'll need more pay and more time if you want three hundred. I've only got two people running my ship, and I'm one of them." The voice sounded feminine, but tough, and Seamus would have smiled if he hadn't been so tired.  
  
"I'm sure we can come to an arrangement. Ah, good, the wine is here. Have you ever tried this variety?" Seamus pushed the door open with his back, carrying the heavy tray with both his hands. Turning, Seamus kept his head bowed and set the tray on the table. He was about to leave when Marcus called out,  
  
"Stay here Seamus, I might need you," So he nodded and turned back, hands clasped behind his back. Seamus couldn't see, but he was surprised to hear Marcus say,  
  
"Haven't you seen a slave before? Come here Seamus; show my guest how obedient you are." Eyes still glued to the floor, Seamus walked over to Marcus, who stroked his arm fondly. Curious, Seamus looked up at Marcus' guest and then froze, staring in disbelief. The woman was a human, none other than Beka Valentine. She didn't appear to recognize Seamus at first, looking at his broken hands and body with disgust, before looking up at his face. Their eyes met and hers widened in recognition.  
  
"Oh my god. Is that you-Seamus Harper?" Her voice was hesitant, and as he nodded Marcus suddenly gripped his arm tightly. His voice was falsely pleasant, sending shivers up Seamus' back as his fingers made little bruises on his arm. "What happened to you?" She was staring at him aghast now, pity evident in her eyes. Seamus knew she meant well, but he felt angry. Who was she to give him pity? Still, he hadn't seen a friendly face in so long...  
  
"The magog attacked-"Seamus began to explain, but Marcus cursed under his breath and stood, opening the door and literally throwing Seamus out into the hallway. Seamus slammed into the stone wall and slid to the floor, dazed.  
  
"Hey! What the hell are you-"Beka stood and shouted at Marcus, hands planted on her hips. Marcus turned to face her and said coldly,  
  
"Slaves are not permitted to speak unless bidden. Now then, if we may return to our business-"But Beka shook her head angrily.  
  
"I don't think so. I know that kid, not very well maybe, but he's the best engineer I've met-ever. He doesn't deserve to be a slave, so maybe you could add his freedom to the deal," She was glaring up at Marcus eye for eye, and Marcus suddenly smiled. Seamus' heart sank; it was the same smile Marcus had had when he'd broken Seamus' fingers.  
  
"Seamus, you're no longer needed. Wait for me in your quarters." Seamus nodded curtly to Beka, and almost ran off. Marcus turned to Beka and laughed.  
  
"Perhaps once he may have been a passable engineer, now however I assure you he is quite useless as anything more than a slave. Don't forget that you are a kludge on a planet where kludges are our property. Now, if you wish to return to your ship safely, we can resume our discussion in the morning. I trust by then you will have a respect for our...culture," Beka was about ready to kill Marcus, but he was too damn big. Wishing she had asked Bobby to accompany her, she scowled. At last she nodded and left. She couldn't help Seamus-or Harper, as he'd asked her to call him-by getting herself killed. She had a feeling that she'd already caused him trouble. Normally she looked out for herself and only herself, with the possible exception of Bobby, but now she had a strange desire to see Harper free, if only to spite that stuck up muscle headed Uber.  
  
"Damn it all, I hate planets..." She muttered, fists clenched as she retrieved her gun from a guard and began the walk back to the Maru.  
  
It was one of the worst beatings Seamus had had in a long while. When Marcus had finally been satisfied that he'd learned his lesson, Seamus couldn't breathe right and he wasn't sure he could stand. His only comfort was that in the morning the cook looked him over and declared him unfit for anything other than watering plants. This was a job always envied over, for although the Nietzscheans had a large courtyard with extensive gardens in the center of the Palace complex, it was the easiest task and the one where a kludge was least likely to encounter a Nietzschean. Later that night as he lay awake on his cot, squeezed between two other bodies, he wondered if what Beka had said about his skills were true. He also wondered if she would find a way to free him. Quickly he dismissed the idea; Beka had no good reason to risk her life for him. Dejectedly he sighed; there was no way out except death. Smiling weakly to himself, he remembered a phrase his father had once told to him...  
  
'Give me liberty or give me death...'  
  
It seemed as though Seamus would be stuck with the latter of the two choices.  
  
)***(  
  
"Well? What do you think?" Beka brushed away a strand of red hair from her face as she waited for her boyfriend's reply. She stood in front of him; he was leaning back in a chair by the kitchen counter.  
  
"Let's see if I understand...we cheat the Ubers, trick 'em into giving us this whats-his-name—"  
  
"Harper," Beka supplied.  
  
"Harper, who's a slave, an' then we simply take off and never come back?"  
  
"Yep, that's about it,"  
  
"And the Nietzscheans'll hate it?"  
  
"I think so,"  
  
"Hell, sounds good to me," Bobby smiled up at Beka, who, as she grinned back, was reminded why she loved this guy. Don't worry Harper, we'll have you out of there in no time. A small voice added quietly, Provided nothing goes wrong, that is...  
  
End of Chapter 3  
Volume 2  
  
Man...I wanted to finish this! But it's getting awfully long, isn't it? Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, I'm sorry it took so long to write. Okay, so maybe it didn't need to be rated R, but my beta reader said I'd better do so just to be safe. Also, I wanted to get this chapter done because I'm going away for about a week and half, I wanted to give everyone plenty of time to read it, mull over it, and tell me how it was! (hint hint) lol, anyway, hope it wasn't too bad.  
  
Au revoir!  
-Luna Sealeaf 


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